Who says zombies can't be converted into useful members of the community? Certainly not the makers of "Fido," who take us to a never-never-land version of the 1950's where the undead have been turned into butlers and servants for the burgeoning middle class. Timmy Robinson is the all-American boy who becomes emotionally attached to the family's new full-time domestic - a recently resurrected zombie whom Timmy has affectionately dubbed Fido. All of this has been made possible by Zomcom, a big-brother-type organization that has found a way to render the zombies (who were originally brought to "life" by radiation from outer space) manageable and docile - at least most of the time.
This twisted, modern-day spin on the TV series "Lassie" - it might easily have been entitled "A Boy and His Zombie" - takes slyly satirical swipes at such pre-'60s concerns as obsessive social conformity (here keeping-up-with-the-Joneses means having more zombie servants than the folks next door), the sterility of suburban life, the corporate control of civic affairs, small town corruption and nuclear family values - all played out in a beautifully designed setting of parti-colored houses and immaculately manicured lawns. The movie doesn't hit the audience over the head with its message nor does it engage in endless hyperbole to generate laughs. Instead, this is a low-keyed, subtle little satire that elicits appreciative chuckles rather than full-bellied guffaws. Much of the humor derives from the incongruity between the placidness of the setting and the cavalier attitude towards death demonstrated by the fine citizens of the community (Life Magazine has been replaced with a periodical entitled Death Magazine). Despite some playfully graphic violence, the movie stays true to the spirit of innocence we generally associate with both the 1950's itself and the cheesy, low-budget horror movies that were so much a part of the pop culture scene of that decade.
K'Sun Ray, Carrie-Ann Moss and Dylan Baker are amiable and appealing as the wide-eyed Timmy and his Cleaver-esquire parents (with slightly sinister undertones), while Billy Connolly accomplishes the well nigh impossible task of bringing a great deal of humanity and depth to the role of a resurrected corpse.
This is what "Lassie" might have been had Timmy's best friend been afflicted rabies.
This twisted, modern-day spin on the TV series "Lassie" - it might easily have been entitled "A Boy and His Zombie" - takes slyly satirical swipes at such pre-'60s concerns as obsessive social conformity (here keeping-up-with-the-Joneses means having more zombie servants than the folks next door), the sterility of suburban life, the corporate control of civic affairs, small town corruption and nuclear family values - all played out in a beautifully designed setting of parti-colored houses and immaculately manicured lawns. The movie doesn't hit the audience over the head with its message nor does it engage in endless hyperbole to generate laughs. Instead, this is a low-keyed, subtle little satire that elicits appreciative chuckles rather than full-bellied guffaws. Much of the humor derives from the incongruity between the placidness of the setting and the cavalier attitude towards death demonstrated by the fine citizens of the community (Life Magazine has been replaced with a periodical entitled Death Magazine). Despite some playfully graphic violence, the movie stays true to the spirit of innocence we generally associate with both the 1950's itself and the cheesy, low-budget horror movies that were so much a part of the pop culture scene of that decade.
K'Sun Ray, Carrie-Ann Moss and Dylan Baker are amiable and appealing as the wide-eyed Timmy and his Cleaver-esquire parents (with slightly sinister undertones), while Billy Connolly accomplishes the well nigh impossible task of bringing a great deal of humanity and depth to the role of a resurrected corpse.
This is what "Lassie" might have been had Timmy's best friend been afflicted rabies.